The Right Tool For The Job
by Unicorn Filly
Summary: Sam gets into trouble and Dean takes the blame for it. WARNING: Corporal Punishment: Spanking of a teenager.


March 19 2006

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me!

I wrote this story because one of my friends wanted a story where Dean took the blame and was punished for something Sam did. She loves to see Dean being a protective older brother!

The Right Tool For the Job 

Thirteen-year-old Sam knew he was in big trouble.

He'd screwed up royally. He'd only recently been allowed to start going out on hunts with his Dad and older brother, but their father had drilled one thing in both of them their entire life. Always, ALWAYS make sure you have the right tool for the job.

It had been during the heat of battle, but he knew his father wouldn't accept that excuse. He had grabbed the wrong gun, the gun with the regular bullets in it instead of the silver bullets needed to go up against a werewolf, and because of it, he'd nearly gotten mauled. Dean had managed to shoot it just in time, and now he stood there trembling with a half empty gun, and his father looking at him furiously.

"Sammy HOW many times have I told you to always make sure you have the right tool for the job?!"

"Dad I-"

"It was my fault Dad."

They both stopped and looked at Dean, who was looking at their Dad steadily.

Dean knew what had happened. It was an easy mistake for a beginner to grab the wrong gun out of the wrong compartment in the heat of battle when emotions were high and hearts were pounding, but he knew his father wouldn't see it that way. Sammy had only recently turned thirteen, and only recently had their Dad decided that he was old enough to go on hunts with them. He knew he would be way too hard on Sammy about this, so he stepped up to take his place.

"How is it your fault Dean?"

"I grabbed the wrong gun and handed it to him…"

"You WHAT?! Dean how could you be so irresponsible? You could've cost your brother his life!"

"I know… I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough!"

Sam was looking back and forth between them, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Dean shot him a look that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut, and he was finally able to close it.

"We're going home. Both of you get your behinds in the car."

They obeyed as their father set the werewolf on fire to get rid of the evidence. Sammy looked at Dean fearfully. "Dean…"

"It's okay Sammy. Just don't say anything. He'll probably just yell at me awhile. Don't worry about it."

Dean knew better, but he refused to let this upset Sammy, and was relieved when his little brother finally nodded and leaned back in his seat.

The drive back home was icily quiet. Dean watched as his father told Sammy to go watch T.V. then beckoned for him to follow him upstairs. Dean followed him with a sigh.

After they were in Dean's room and the door was closed John turned to his son. "Dean what is the first rule we have about hunting?"

"Always make sure you have the right tool for the job."

"Exactly. For that can mean the difference between life and death. How could you make such a mistake Dean?"

"I don't know Dad. It was in the heat of battle and-"

"That's no excuse and you know it. Go get me the paddle."

Dean blanched. He had hoped that his father would deem him too old for this punishment now that he was seventeen. He hadn't been spanked since he was Sammy's age when he'd thought it would be funny to shave off his little brother's eyebrows in revenge for him accidentally breaking one of his weapons.

"Dad don't you think I'm a little old for this?"

John's voice is flat. "No. Now go get it."

Reluctantly, Dean did as he was told, going into his father's bedroom and getting the paddle out of the top drawer of the dresser. Coming back he handed it to John who ran his fingers over the shiny wood surface. Just like he told his sons he always made sure he had the right tool for the job and that included discipline. The paddle was only used when his sons needed corporal punishment, and he'd made sure it was made just right by his own two hands.

Dean watched his father as he sat down on his bed feeling tense as his father seemed to run his hands over it almost lovingly, not knowing that the truth was his father hated having to do this, but preferring to do it then have his sons forget a lesson and risk their life. Better to have the lesson sink in. If not through their brain, then through their behind.

"Pants and underwear down and over my lap Dean."

Dean gulped and did as he was told. A spanking was always done on the bare bottom. John had two reasons for this. One, it hurt more, and two, he could see what he was doing. He didn't want to risk any real harm to his children and would always stop if the skin got too red, no matter what. He never wanted to risk bruising them.

Dean clenched his teeth and his fists and held his breath, waiting. He felt his father put his arm around his waist to hold onto him. The paddle hit his rear with a loud THWHACK and he was glad Sammy was downstairs watching T.V. He knew that Sammy liked to turn the volume up loud and as long as he was able to stay fairly quiet, Sammy shouldn't be able to hear what was going on.

John heard his son's breath come out in little gasps and whimpers, but he was being fairly quiet. He guessed that was because he was so much older now then the last time he had been paddled. He got a firmer grip on him, wanting to make sure to drive the lesson home, and focused on his sit spot.

Dean had been holding his breath as much as he could, but now that the more tender area was being focused on the air exploded from his lungs. "Ow! Dad!" He could feel tears jump to his eyes.

Relieved that he now seemed to be getting a reaction, he slowed the strikes and let up a little. "Why am I spanking you Dean?"

"Because- ow! I used- OW! The wrong tool for the job! Ouch!"

"And why is that a bad thing?"

"Because it could get me killed! Ow Dad! Please stop!" Dean felt tears drip down his cheeks.

"Or in this case, it could've gotten your little brother killed, correct?"

"Yes! Ow! I'm sorry! Dad please, no more!" He could take just about any other pain than this. He hated when his father was angry with him, but in this case, it was better him than Sammy.

"Sorry Dean but we're not done here yet."

Dean yelped loudly then grabbed his pillow and bit into it when the paddle started coming down even harder than before, this time also targeting the tops of his thighs. Before long he was sobbing hard, not being able to stop himself.

Hearing the muffled sobs John landed one extra hard swat to Dean's sit spot then stopped. Dean's skin was a deep red but he was pretty sure it wouldn't bruise. He rubbed and patted Dean's back. "Okay Dean it's over. It's over. Shhh… It's okay son, breathe. Shhh…"

Even as he cried the only thing Dean could really think was, I hope Sammy didn't hear any of this. It took a few minutes for him to be able to start calming down, and when he had slowed to sniffles he slowly got up and pulled up his underwear and jeans with a wince, his breath still hitching. He wiped his face feeling embarrassed about crying so much.

John stood up and hugged his son, stroking the back of his head a little. "I do love you Dean and I'm sorry I had to do that. I'm just trying to keep you and your brother safe."

Dean's voice was a little choked up. "I know Dad and I promise to be more careful."

John just nodded and held Dean until the tears stopped then handed him a tissue. Dean wiped his face again and blew his nose. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. I'll start dinner."

Dean nodded. "Okay Dad." He headed for the bathroom and John sighed, glad that the punishment was over just as much as Dean was, and headed down to the kitchen.

After Dean had taken a shower and changed clothes he came downstairs to see Sammy on the couch with his head practically stuck in the T.V. He shook his head with a smirk thinking that some things never changed and went over and sat down next to him, casually pulling over a soft cushion to plant his sore rear on first.

"What'cha watchin?"

"Just some cartoons. You okay Dean? Dad wasn't too hard on you was he?" Sammy looked at him in concern.

"Nah. He just yelled at me, just like I said he would. Oh and he did some lecturing too. I'm okay."

Sammy looked skeptical. "You sure? Cause you look like you've been cr-"

"So what kind of cartoons are you watching anyway?" Dean interrupted, knowing what Sammy was going to say and cutting him off, hoping to distract him.

"Just some Popeye."

Dean smirked. "Well little brother if you're a good boy and eat all your vegetables maybe someday you'll be just as strong Popeye. Or even better, me."

"Oh shut up Dean." Dean just grinned. Then Sam lowered his voice. "Thanks for taking the rap for me."

"Hey that's what big brothers are for. But if you mess up again you're on your own, got it?"

Sam smiled a little. "Yeah I got it." Dean ruffled his hair playfully then they both leaned back and waited for their father to call them for dinner.

THE END


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